


The Artist and His Muse

by jaeren



Series: (Spicy)Shots by jaeren [2]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Biting, Body Paint, Body Worship, Eren Yeager Has a Manbun, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Gratuitous Smut, Hair-pulling, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, Long-Haired Eren Yeager, Modern Era, Older Eren Yeager, Oral Sex, Painter Eren Yeager, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink, Reader Is In College, Semi-Public Sex, Smut, Teasing, Top Eren Yeager, Vaginal Sex, artist Eren, model reader, there's plot if you squint
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-12 12:12:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28760109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaeren/pseuds/jaeren
Summary: There was paint everywhere. Eren’s fingertips trailed down the middle of your chest to your navel, stroking green paint the exact shade of his gorgeous eyes. “You might be the most beautiful canvas I’ve ever had.”NSFW one-shot in which you are the nude model and Eren is the painter ;)(And also a fluffy second part to come...)
Relationships: Eren Yeager & Reader, Eren Yeager/Reader
Series: (Spicy)Shots by jaeren [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2108535
Comments: 38
Kudos: 236
Collections: EREN JAEGER|AOT





	The Artist and His Muse

**Author's Note:**

> This is dedicated to my lovely readers; thank you for reading my works. (If you are uncomfortable with smut, look out for the fluffy second part to come!)

You shivered in your robe. You couldn’t believe you were here. Sure, it was your New Year’s Resolution to be more confident in your body, but you couldn’t believe how your best friend Ymir had roped you into signing up to be a nude model for a painting class offered at the Paradis Art Institute. She worked here as an art instructor, and one of her colleagues had mentioned the job to her, asking if she knew anyone. Before you knew it, you had signed up, partly because of Ymir’s sly convincing, partly because of a desire to put yourself out there, truly. You had almost canceled it, since there was a snowstorm outside, but the organizer had promised an astronomical increase to your pay, and you just couldn’t turn it down. After all, all you had to do was stand naked. Maybe pose a little. 

Best of all — or maybe worst of all — the organizer had said after you arrived that most of the participants had cancelled, except for one. You would still get paid the same, since cancellations didn’t come with refunds, but it was nice to know you wouldn’t be laid bare before a group of people. Your confidence would do well with just one gaze, you told yourself. Besides, this was one hell of a story to tell your group of friends. _This_ was one thing that you’d have done that Ymir hadn’t done. You had long been the goody-two shoes friend, and you were ready to develop your character, experience some coming-of-age events and transform yourself. Or so that was what you were telling yourself.

You wrapped the robe tighter around your body; it was really cold in here. For such an expensive and prestigious art institution, you’d think that the heating would be better. The organizer had left abruptly, explaining that their babysitter was unable to come through in the snowstorm, so you couldn’t even ask them to help out somehow.

So it would be you and the painter…

You quickly shared your location with Ymir, and let her know, just in case this whole thing went south in the worst way possible. You bit your lip. Who knew if it would be some creep?

And then, the door opened. Your jaw would have dropped, if it had not been for the fact you had already been nibbling on your lip. If this was the creep — it was a _handsome_ creep, holding a canvas that was about the size of his torso. He was hot as hell, with a loose bun tied at the nape of his neck. Dark brown strands of hair framed his face, hanging over his thickly arched eyebrows and rather high cheekbones. He looked like a model himself.

He said nothing as he began to take off his trench coat; he didn’t look at you once. He was entirely focused on getting his personal art supplies out of his bag — a New Yorker magazine tote — and replacing the standard ones provided for by Paradis. You wondered if you should say anything. After all, it was just the two of you. And you were tired of only having yourself as company.

Summoning some courage, you gave him your name, and then asked, “Is there a reason you’re replacing the paints? The canvas, too?”

He looked up with a jolt, as if he hadn’t even taken your presence in. That thought irritated you, since well, you were literally the only other person in this room. Hell, possibly even all of Paradis, given the terrible storm outside. Speaking of which —

“I’m surprised you’re here,” you said, when he still hadn’t responded. “Everyone else has cancelled because of the snowstorm.”

“Everyone else _cancelled_?” He said incredulously, parroting your words. 

“Well, yeah. I was going to, too. I mean, I’m pretty sure transportation is going to be near impossible later tonight.” You stared at him quizzically, wondering if he was more obtuse than his appearance led you to believe. 

“Then why are you here?” he asked, ripping the plastic covering off his canvas.

You shrugged, and kept out the personal details to your story. “The pay is nice, and I’ve got my own car.”

He raised an eyebrow as he settled and adjusted his canvas on the easel. “You’ve got your own car and yet need a nude model’s paycheck?”

“Well, that wouldn’t make sense, if my car wasn’t older than me,” you said, snorting as you thought of your Chevrolet. You’d bought it because it had been cheap as hell for a car, and it seemed like a good transportation investment at the time. Now, you were wondering if you should just sell the damn thing and return to using public transportation. “Plus, I’m a broke college student.”

“Oh, I remember those days,” he said, a small smile on his face. “I graduated two years ago.”

You laughed as you adjusted yourself on the chair you had been provided to drape yourself on, a stool with a metal backing and a rather soft cushion on top. “You make it seem like it was eons ago. You’re not much older than me, then.”

He sucked on his teeth, thinking, upper lip poking out and directing your attention to his plush, pink lips and his tongue that darted out after. You swallowed. 

“It _feels_ like eons ago, you know.”

“What do you do now?” you asked, curious, but also needing a distraction from his lips. And his tongue. And your thoughts of what the two could do together.

“Ah. So you don’t know me? Are you familiar with any modern artists?” He pulled out his case of acrylic paints and began removing the plastic seals off each individual cube of paint. He rolled up the sleeves of his cream button up, clearing his arm so that he could smear the excess paint on each covering.

You furrowed your eyebrows, confused both at his question and his actions. “Should I be?”

“Mmm, not really. We’re in different worlds, easy explanation. The name’s Eren Jaeger. I do commissions on the side, but mostly I just paint whatever I want and someone will buy it to hang in their living room or sex dungeon. Sometimes art galleries or modern art exhibitions at museums.” 

You sputtered, nearly falling off your stool. “Sex dungeon?” _Huh?_

Eren smirked. “It was the weirdest interaction my agent Armin and I have had. It was this painting I did of dew drops on rose thorns — nothing sexual, right? Well, as the guy who purchased it signed the check, he mentioned how good it was going to look on the walls of his sex dungeon. Armin nearly had an aneurysm.”

“I would, too,” you said. You sighed, trying to understand. “Thorns, huh? Well, people can be into kinky shit.”

“Personal experience?” You didn’t have to look at him to know that he was probably still smirking, possibly even more so. 

“Not that you need to know, but sensation play is a real thing.” You made sure to be looking away from him, knowing that if you were looking into his eyes, you would heat up everywhere on your body. 

For a moment, there was only the sound of the plastic he was still unsealing, with moments of pause in between as he continued smearing.

Feeling awkward, you asked, “Why are you doing that?”

“I don’t know why I do this, but it comforts me. The feeling of the paint I’m going to use on my skin grounds me to my work.” He paused. “I sound like a lunatic, don’t I?”

You laughed, the sound rushing out of you and filling the room.”No, you don’t. I guess artists can have particular quirks.” You turned your eyes back to him to watch him as he finished up. There was an assortment of colors marked on his arm, from vibrant violets to raucous reds. Even from your distance, you could see that the colors were still wet by their shine, though the earlier smeared ones were more mattified. You wondered how the paint would feel on your skin, too. You wondered how it would feel if it were _Eren_ ’s fingers painting your skin. _Fuck._ You scolded yourself for thinking in that direction, again. You decided that you’d go out with Ymir and the girls soon, and find somebody to warm your body with. You needed a quick fuck as soon as possible if you were this horny for a near stranger.

“Would you say that’s an example of sensation play?” Eren asked, jarring you out of your thoughts.

“Excuse me?”

“Sensation play, with paint being the—”

“No, I get it, I just — was taken aback. Yeah, I guess so,” you said. His words were so dangerously close to your thoughts that you were endlessly embarrassed. And he hadn’t even asked you to take your robe off.

Suddenly, Eren stood up, and brought his paint set with him, no paintbrush. You gulped as he got closer, the smell of his cologne, of black coffee and vanilla, warm and spicy, infiltrating your senses, making you heady.

“I, uh, need to color match.”

“Hmm?”

Eren flushed, a delicious peachy tone flooding his tan cheeks. “I need to color match your skin tone. Could you … adjust your robe? But — not — er — you don’t have to take it off completely.” 

You nearly grinned instantaneously. So, you were affecting him, too, judging by his adorable stuttering and the way the pink-red flush was reaching up to the tips of his ears.

“I’ll have to eventually, won’t I?” you asked, voice edging on the edge of a seductive tone.

Eren swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Eventually, yes. But for now—”

You undid your robe. Not all the way, but just enough that your decolletage and the swell of your breasts were visible. Not everything, but just enough. _A taste, if you will._

“The sleeves are a bit tight, so they’d be hard to pull up,” you said, explaining your choice of exposure. It was true, anyway. The robe was a satin fabric that clung to your arms, and also at your chest and waist since the tie had been done. But by undoing it slightly, you freed your chest and waist. 

A near predatory look flashed in Eren’s eyes as he narrowed them, but he relaxed his expression. He applied a small dab of red paint just below the jut of your collarbone oh-so-very-gently.

“This is, ah, cadmium red. I’ll just be mixing paints until I reach the exact shade of your skin,” he said, explaining with the voice of a professor.

“Am I in class, Professor Jaeger?” Your voice was low and light as a whisper. At his intake of breath, you knew you were pushing his buttons. 

“No,” he said. “Just explaining what I’m doing. So it’s not … awkward.”

“Awkward? Oh, not at _all_ ,” you said, smiling. You _would_ normally be feeling awkward, but something about your shared levels of nervousness and veiled excitement leveled your head.

“What next?” you asked. His index finger gently stroked as he blended in a brown shade, and then a white shade.

“That was, let’s see,” he said, looking at the bottom labels of his paint set. “Burnt sienna and titanium white.” He continued quietly applying small increments of different shades of paint, even some blues and yellows. 

“I’m sorry this is taking so long. I just want this to be as accurate as possible,” he said. He continued his light touches.

You frowned. “Y’know, Eren, this would probably go by a lot faster if you weren’t treating me like some precious porcelain. I won’t shatter if you touch me harder.” You wanted to retract the latter part of your sentence the _second_ you had said it.

Instantly, the nervous Eren melted away, as if it had been a disguise all along. His green eyes positively glittered as he narrowed them, further made vibrant by his long dark framing lashes. And his smirk made your curl your toes the way his lips slowly curved upwards towards one side. 

“Alright. I’ll touch you harder. So to speak.” Eren dipped his middle and ring finger into the so called cadmium red slowly; once his fingers were in, they swirled within the thick paint slowly. _Fuck fuck fuck fuck_ was all you could think as you shifted slightly, clenching your thighs as moisture surged at the apex of your thighs. You knew he was abandoning his earlier color match mission, because the amount of red paint on his fingers was _triple_ the amount of paint he’d been using in totality so far. 

Eren put his fingers again at the jut of your collarbone. Except, this time, he trailed his fingers lower, down the center of your chest, until he reached your breasts. Your breath hitched as his pair of fingers pushed your robe aside and skimmed over the curve of one of them, as if he were molding them on your body and you were clay.

You hissed, in pain and in pleasure, as his fingers _hard_ pressed into the softness of your breast, until all the red paint had been wiped onto you. 

“E-Eren,” you whispered. You weren’t even sure what you were prepared to say. Perhaps: _oh, keep going_ or _ah, fuck me_ or _are you sure?_ Instead, you just gasped dumbly as his fingers landed on the tie of your robe.

“I need you to tell me if you want this to continue or not,” he said, tone serious but gentle. “If not, I’ll stop. Immediately. I’ll leave, too, if you want me to. This isn’t what you signed up for.”

“Continue,” you breathed. You swallowed visibly. “I’m signing up for it now. The only thing I want you to do, as I said so _eloquently_ — is to touch me. Harder.” You weren’t sure where this burst of wanton confidence came from, but you hardly regretted as Eren’s nimble fingers undid your robe. 

He wrapped the arm holding his paint set around your waist, being careful to not knock the paint out of his hands. He leaned down to suck at your throat, latching onto your pulse point. As your heart beat, his teeth sank into your skin. 

“How’s this for sensations, beauty?” He asked, lips soft against your skin, kissing away the bruises his teeth had left. 

You loved his lips and his teeth on your skin. But your mind flashed back to the feeling of his fingers, and the paint gliding across the surface of your skin … 

“I want you to paint me, Eren.” You nudged his chin up so that the two of you were in direct eye contact. “Paint me.”

Eren stood up, eyes still locked onto yours, just from above now. He closed and tossed his paint set to some cushions nearby. Then, he undid the top few buttons of his shirt, and then stopped before talking.

“Alright, my muse,” he said, stopping as you surged up to continue unbuttoning where he left off. “I’ll paint you.” Once you finished unbuttoning and slipping off his shirt, leaving you to admire his musculature, he swooped your naked body into his arms. You gasped, taken by shock.

He laid you down where he’d thrown his paint set, on a spot in the room for models to lay, a section of soft velvet cushions and luxe carpeting. There was an assortment of props laying around, from a bowl of fruit to feathers and fans. 

He positioned himself over you, one knee positioned at each of your sides. He surveyed your body with the eyes of an artist, taking in every line and every curve, every shape and every size. You didn’t feel an ounce of embarrassment, just a lustful need and a confidence that surged the more his eyes clouded over with an equal desire for you and your body. 

Eren opened up his paint set again.

“Prussian blue,” he said, dipping a finger into the shade. He skimmed a finger against the curve of your waist down to your hips, on both sides. Another color, one that was a pale grey, he shaped around your collarbones and shoulders. He dotted concentric circles down past your shoulders onto your arms, like he was drawing on bridal epaulettes onto your skin. Some lines of green paint the color of his eyes on your stomach.

You sighed in contentment, at the feel of the cool paint on your skin with the combination of Eren’s masterful strokes. The movement of his fingers with the paint was so sensual, so intimate — you felt as if the two of you were trapped within a painting of your own, living in your own universe. Every now and then his fingers would edge near the center of your legs, and you would arch your back preparing for it. But he’d never touch you there, no matter how much you were clearly signaling it with your body.

“Eren—”

Eren leaned down to take one of your nipples into his mouth, swirling his tongue over the sensitive peak slowly, shutting you up. You moaned just as he released and gracefully rose again, chin shiny with his spit. His pupils were blown wide open with lust, making his green eyes seem even darker. You wished there was a paint color for it, so you could narrate to him as he’d done for you. His eyes skimmed over your body again. 

“Why’d you sign up to be the model? Really truly, why?” Eren asked, bringing his eyes up to lock onto yours.

You blinked in surprise. Now was hardly the time to ask that. Not when you wanted him to ravage you. But, you decided to respond honestly this time, instead of playing the broke student card as you had previously. “To be honest, I’m not — very confident in my body.” It took all the courage you had to reveal that personal thought.

Eren’s thick eyebrows furrowed adorably. He looked positively innocent, not like the man who’d been touching and tasting you all over just seconds ago. “You should be. Confident, that is.”

You huffed out a laugh. “Not as easy as saying that.”

“I know, but, listen — I’ve been studying anatomy for years. So _believe_ me when I say you, and your body, are as perfect as can be. I could draw you, paint you, sculpt you, for the rest of my life.” Eren dipped a finger into a red shade, different from the cadmium red he’d used at the very beginning. “Rose red,” he whispered.

You felt your eyes water, a mix of gratitude and affection for this man who had been brought before you in the most insane way. Whoever was writing your life story, if anyone, was surely a lunatic. But at least they’d given you Eren, and this moment. He took the red shade, and traced it over the contours of your body, careful to avoid mixing with the other drawings he’d made.

“I like roses,” you said, mumbling shyly. It was the closest you could get to a _thank you._

“Do you?” He said, staring at a spot in the center of your chest. “I’ll paint one on you.” 

You watched him concentrate as he painted petal after petal onto your soft skin. You realized that when he was focused with his art, he would gnaw on a corner of his lip, perhaps why his lips had been so pink to you. You wanted to kiss him, so you could bite his lips, too.

“There,” he said, finished. “A beautiful rose on a beautiful girl.”

 _That’s it,_ you thought. You were done lying down, waiting for him to _kiss_ you. Maybe fuck you, too. You rose up quickly, surging against him to position your lips over his. He responded quickly, dropping his paint set to the ground with a clatter. His paint hand wrapped itself into your hair, and you didn’t even care how long it’d take you later to remove it. All you could think of was _Eren Eren Eren_ and his lips on yours. His skin on yours. His body against yours.

“Eren, I’m completely naked.”

Eren let out an exhale. “Believe me, I’m well aware.” You looked to his crotch, where you could see the hard evidence of his attraction to you.

“Idiot,” you said, shaking your head. “I’m trying to say that _you’re_ not.” You immediately set upon undoing his belt and his zipper.

“Oh,” Eren breathed dumbly. You couldn’t believe that the flirtatious man who’d initially begun this with you was the same as this current side of Eren, a shy and careful one. You worked to get him out of his pants and underwear, quickly swiping a condom from one of the pockets.

“Come prepared?” you asked, ripping the packet open.

“Not for this,” Eren said, eyes rolling back as you slid the condom on his cock. “But I’m prepared to make _you_ come.” 

You raised an eyebrow, spreading your legs open in invitation. “And is going your bite going to measure up to your bark?”

Seems like that was all it took to unseal the crazed lustful side of him you’d seen earlier as he pushed you back down to the cushions immediately. He pushed open your thighs, eyes narrowed with determination. And then he swooped down near _there._

“You’re so wet, beauty,” he said, skimming a finger through your slick heat. You felt his hot breath on you before you felt his tongue lick a stripe down the middle, before settling to lap against your clit.

“Oh, Eren!” You couldn’t hold back the cry as he stroked and sucked, tasting you. He smirked against your cunt briefly but resumed his ministrations. You clenched your thighs against his head, unable to hold back the impulse to move him closer, deeper. You could feel your orgasm building as you felt sparks dancing on your legs, stemming from your core — but you didn’t want to come on his tongue. You wanted to come on his cock. You moved your hands down to his long locks, running your fingers into their thick waves, and pulled at his roots. Maybe even hard enough to hurt. But by the sound of the deep and guttural moan he made against you, you knew that had been the right move; so hair pulling was a turn-on for him. Good for you, because you loved the feel of his hair in your hands, soft like silk. 

Eren lifted his face up to stare at you with hungry, wicked eyes. Pure sin and lust radiated out of his gaze, and you knew without a doubt you were returning with equal fervor.

“I’ll never forget your taste, gorgeous girl,” Eren said, moving upwards against your body such that his cock pressed against you. Your stomach fluttered and you felt as if you would burst with the way your clit pulsed, as if Eren’s tongue was still pressing against it.

With his eyes pinned to yours, he thrust into you slowly. The deeper he got, the more shock waves of pleasure coursed through you, reaching its maximum as you took him to the hilt. He pushed in and out with a slow repeating rhythm, as you let out low sultry moans, unable to hold back your appreciation for his cock.

“Fuck Eren — faster,” you gasped as he hit a particularly tender spot. You tightened your legs around him, further fusing your flesh, and felt his muscles stretching over your skin as he dove into you. 

He stopped his movements. “What’s that, beauty? You want me to …” 

You wanted to scowl, knowing he was teasing you, but you were desperate with want and need. 

“ _Fuck_ me till I see stars, Eren. Until your eyes are the only color I know.”

Eren grinned, pleased. “Good girl.” He obeyed, partly in reaction to your pleas, partly because at this point he couldn’t stand being without you for any second longer than necessary. He teased your lips apart, his tongue swirling hotly on yours, claiming your mouth as he had claimed your body. Releasing your lips, he moved his attention to your neck and shoulders, raining kisses all over you: some gentle, some violent, but nonetheless driving you insane with pleasure. 

“I’m getting p-paint on you,” you realized, noting the swirls of color on his body that had previously been on you. 

Eren shuddered as you clenched around him. “So does that make you the painter?” His voice came out as a deep guttural croak, quavering under the effects of your sex.

“Mmh!” you cried when his hands began kneading your breasts like you were clay for him to sculpt. “No. Y _-you’re_ the artist.” You were so close to coming that you weren’t even sure if you’d actually said anything. 

And then finally, finally — you shattered. You were consumed by the raging fire Eren had lit within you, falling apart under his touch. Your legs buzzed with energy as your cunt throbbed and pulsated, your climax coming in waves over you.

Eren came not too soon after, coaxed by your tight clenching and your husky voice encouraging him. He moaned your name into your shoulder, the vibrations of his voice on your skin making you delirious in addition to your orgasm. 

Panting hard, the both of you lay upon the cushions, spent. Eren laid down by your side, bringing you close to his chest, rubbing circles into your back and praising you again and again. You’d never felt more confident in your beauty and sexual prowess, with the way he was speaking to you.

After a pause, he called your name. “Don’t sign up to be a nude model ever again.” His voice was utterly serious.

You smirked into his skin. “You don’t like to share?” 

He squeezed your ass tight. “You’re mine as much as I am yours now.” You laughed in delight, and kissed Eren sweetly. The two of you sat up slowly to face each other.

You gasped.

There was paint _everywhere_. Eren’s fingertips trailed down the middle of your chest to your navel, stroking green paint the exact shade of his gorgeous eyes. “You might be the most beautiful canvas I’ve ever had.”

You smiled shyly, staring up at him with doe eyes. 

“Let me add something,” Eren said, reaching to pick up his long-ago dropped paint set. 

Still using his fingers, he added leaves and a stem to the rose he’d drawn on your chest earlier. He led you over to a mirror in the art studio. Despite the petals having been smudged slightly, the signature flower was still stunning on your skin. 

You stared at the girl facing you: a deep flush had grown over your face, a shiny glow on the apples of your cheek, hair mussed and waving wildly around your face. She _was_ gorgeous. You were gorgeous. And Eren behind you, body now colored with the same paint he’d painted on you, swirls and whorls mixing all over him, hair equally messy and cheeks rosy. The paint colors hadn’t mixed completely, so the colors were still separately discernible. The two of you looked like a picture perfect pair. Eren stepped closer to your back, and wrapped his arms around you, pressing your backside to his body. He curved over and around your body as he hugged you close.

“The artist and his muse,” Eren whispered into your hair.

“The artist and his muse,” you repeated, turning to face him. You kissed him deeply, and he kissed you back in full. Outside the snowstorm continued, and inside, the two of you warmed yourselves with your bodies. The artist and his muse, wrapped together, separate from the rest of the world.

* * *

_Fin._

_(for now)_

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> I've been working on this in between my other fics (which I encourage you to check out if you haven't), so here it is. You'd think that after years of reading smut, I'd be unfazed by writing it. Yet, here I am: fazed. I'm dead. I'm alive but I'm dead. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed reading this and eventually the fluffy second part will be here! :) Looking forward to your comments and concerns lol and find me on tumblr as @jae-ren.


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